


be as you've always been

by ditty (Triple_A)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Terminal Illnesses, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21811900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triple_A/pseuds/ditty
Summary: Gavin and RK fall in love, get married, and are happy.Like so many other things, that doesn't go according to plan.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	1. nothing gold can stay

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Hozier's Be

Nice thing about having an android boyfriend?

Gavin never had to worry about setting alarms again. Not when his morning routine consisted of waking up with the shifting of the bed, drifting off into a doze as RK moved around the kitchen, before finally shoving himself up ten minutes later to meander his way into the bathroom.

By the time he emerges, nearly a half-hour after RK emerged from stasis, both cat and dog are fed and there's a mug of coffee sitting on the table, and the rest of the pot is being poured into his travel mug. The radio plays some decades-old pop song, and RK nods to the beat, a smile on his face.

"Good morning, Gavin" He says, and Gavin yawns and takes a sip of coffee before bothering to answer. It's perfect, of course, the right ratio of cream and sugar that only RK knows how to measure out.

" 'Morn." He mumbles, gently scratching Delilah's head, the old grayhound nudging his knee for pets. "What's the schedule, RK?"

"Well, _you_ have paperwork to be finishing." Gavin grumbles at that, but RK's not wrong. "I'm going to Jericho for some routine check-ups. And Tina wants you to remember that it's movie night tonight. As she quotes, 'You're on jiffy-pop detail, old man.'"

Even without using his vocal imitation, RK's impression was pretty spot on, and Gavin laughs. "She couldn't've told me that herself?"

"She said you'd be more likely to remember if I reminded you," RK's lips quirk into a smile as he hands Gavin the travel mug, taking Gavin's empty cup away. " _Old man_."

"Fuck off, I'm barely forty."

"And as lovely as the day we met and fresh as a flower."

Gavin flicks RK's forehead with a grin. "Respect your elders, punk."

He shrugs on his jacket and gives Delilah one more good pet, and makes some kissy sounds at Marie. The tabby staunchly ignores his attempts, still eating the wet food RK had set out for her.

"See you tonight?"

"Of course. Message me when your movie's over."

"Sure thing. Love you, babe."

"Take care, love."

* * *

**1.15**

**5:21**

how's it going?

**5:21**

_Good. Might be a little longer than we thought, however._

_Nothing serious, just a lot more hardware to work around in me than most._

**5:23**

wow

my big buff baby...sniff too buff for his own good

is everything good tho?

**5:23**

_Rude._

_Yes, everything's fine. I just might not be home when you get back._

**5:24**

ok ok

i'll feed thing 1 n 2 before movie nite then

**5:25**

_Please don't call Delilah and Marie that._

**5:25**

凸

ok i gotta get back to work b4 fowler gets mad again

love you

**5:26**

_...Again?_

_Love you too._

\---

**9:21**

rk? is smth wrong?

you called me twice. so did connor

**9:25**

babe??

rk please talk to me

please pick up holy shit

rk please

**9:34**

ill be there in a moment. hold on

* * *

Gavin's too old to complain about life being unfair.

He's been dealt the short end of the stick way too many times to not know what unfairness is. He knows that it does no good to scream and complain about it and hope that he gets re-compensated for whatever wrong he's been dealt.

That doesn't stop him from wanting to scream, though.

The moment the technician leaves the room, he thinks he's about to collapse. Which is _stupid_ , because he isn't even the one falling apart.

He's not the one designed to only exist for three months as a fucking display model.

He's not the one with the deteriorating bio-components and memory and O.S.

And he's certainly not the one with a set time to his name, an expiry date.

RK squeezes his hand.

"Gavin," he says softly, so softly, and it really doesn't help with how close Gavin is to crying. "Talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"It's okay."

"It's _not_ okay. How can you even say that?"

"My memory system is not so different from North's, and they found a solution for her. They can find one for me, too, I just have to go in again tomorrow." RK smiles. "I'm not so fragile as the technician put it. I'll be fine."

RK's been right about mostly everything before. Surely he's right about this too, and Gavin takes a deep breath as RK runs a thumb over his knuckles, sliding against the wedding band on his finger.

It's fine. It's going to be fine.

"Let's go home, love."

* * *

The follow-up appointment is somehow worse.

They watch as the technicians file out of the room, and Gavin feels like the world might crack beneath his chair and swallow him whole, or some other absurd happening. Because there was no way this could possibly be real. There was no way he could accept it.

RK is lying on the examination table, hands laced together and face unreadable. His LED spins, though, and its red.

"One month." He whispers.

That breaks the spell, and Gavin stands up quickly, hardly noticing the chair as it falls behind him. "No, that's not fucking right."

"Gavin-"

"No, fuck-that's-there's no fucking way!"

"Gavin, please-"

"They made a mistake, they fucked up-hold on, I'm gonna-I need to talk to them-"

He wants to walk out of the room and storm the whole of the building, and drag whoever he needs to back to this sterile mock-up of a hospital room to get a different diagnosis, a more favorable one. He wants to raise hell until something got made right. He wants-he wants-

He turns.

RK is crying, silent tears sliding down his face. His hands shake- _that's not right, RK never shakes, never-_ and despite no outward sign of the thing that eats at his components, Gavin thinks he's never seen him look more frail.

"Don't leave." He whispers, and Gavin is at his side immediately, wrapping arms around him. There's nothing more important than this right now, nothing more important than the man, the android, his _husband_ whose shoulders and arms tremble as he fists hands in Gavin's shirt.

"I won't."

* * *

What do you do when it feels like your world is falling apart? Because Gavin sure doesn't fucking know. He's no hero. He can't just deus ex machina a perfect happy ending.

But it doesn't feel any better when he's sitting at home trying pretend everything's normal. There's a cup of bitter coffee growing cold on the coffee table. There's a book, _The Outsiders,_ sitting opened and unread in his lap. One his right is Delilah, curled up in a tangle of legs and napping, and Marie watches regally from her cat tree.

On his left is RK, looking through a news tablet with their fingers intertwined. Looking perfect and composed as always. Like this is just a normal night from him, and it does look like a normal night.

But RK is gripping his hand just a little tighter than usual and Gavin can't focus on the book and the coffee's still cold and, and, and-

"I can feel you thinking, you know." RK says. He sets the tablet down and looks at Gavin, all serious. "You'll get more gray hairs if you keep thinking about it."

"I'm an old man, let me worry."

"I'm a punk. Never." RK butts his face into Gavin's neck, and he can't help but laugh. "You know what I thought when I first saw you?"

"That I'm an asshole?"

"No-well, maybe." RK flexes his fingers, running a thumb in the grooves of his palm. "I just knew you were going to change my life. For better or worse, I didn't know yet."

"Do you know now?"

"Of course." RK smiles against his shoulder. "I can't imagine how much duller things would've been if I hadn't met you."

"Sap. You wanna know what I thought when I first saw you?"

"What?"

" 'What the fuck is that jacket collar.' "

"You're an ass."

"And then I thought, 'Fuck me, he's hot.'"

RK laughs at that, and Gavin feels his heart swell and warm. "I share the same face with Connor, though."

"Yeah, but you work it differently. I didn't think much when I saw Connor but when I saw you...god damn. I'm glad I got that stick out of my ass, or I might've never-I mean-I don't think-"

If there was one thing Gavin detested about himself, it was how suddenly he cried, and he grits his teeth and looks away, pulling his glasses away to scrub at his eyes. RK, to his credit, doesn't comment, simply pulls Gavin closer.

"But we're here now."

"Yeah." He agrees, and the hand around his grows just a little tighter.

* * *

They were supposed to have a month.

In the end, they didn't even have two weeks.

The disease, or deterioration, or whatever bullshit auto-start virus Cyberlife put in him had seemed to pick up on the fact that it was being countered against, and so worked faster. RK's movements grew noticeably more hesitant, off-kilter, and his reaction time sometimes became ridiculously prolonged. His words sometimes slurred, and were cracked with static, and on one particularly terrifying morning, he emerged from stasis and was unable to see.

(Gavin had sped him to Jericho and broken several speed limits in the process, and then paced anxiously in the waiting room for an hour as RK was rushed out of his sight)

They were losing time, and no matter how often Gavin asked or demanded about a cure, a solution, the others could only offer apologies and sad faces. They could only offer temporary solutions-constant refreshes and new updates developed specifically for RK, to keep the corruption at bay-but that was only buying them days at a time now.

"What about Kamski?" Gavin demands, as a last ditch spur of desperation.

"We've asked." replies the technician. "But he says that he had nothing to do with the final design for the RK900. Nor did he have anything to do with the timed deterioration program Cyberlife uses in their prototype display models."

"He's the smartest fucking bastard in the world, can't he just-"

"We asked that too. But he says he's only human as well." Gavin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, even as the techie continues in the background in the same, hesitant tone. "He sends his apologies. He's working on the counter-program now, but-it is not possible for it to be finished within our time period."

Apologies be damned.

RK looks up when Gavin enters. They put him in a hospital room, or some equivalent to it. It's small and the walls are blue. There's some kind of monitor hooked up to wires that connect to RK's arm, white and traced with thin blue lines. There are already flowers on the table. In his lap is the same book Gavin had been reading, the pages worn from constant use.

"Gavin," RK begins.

"If you're going to say 'sorry', don't."

"Okay." RK shuffles over in the bed, and Gavin lies down next to him. "What's this book about, Gavin?"

"It's...like, a group of punk kids that call themselves 'outsiders' and a group of high-end privileged kids called 'socs'. They have a rivalry. And this one outsider kid is just...trying to make it. Despite everything."

"Sounds interesting." RK turns the paperback in his hands, before handing it to Gavin. "Can you read it to me?"

"Sure, babe."

* * *

" 'When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home...' "

"...I liked it."

"So do I. It's good."

"...You should sleep, Gavin. It's late. You're tired."

"I'm fine."

"Well _I'm_ tired. Please, love."

"...Okay."

* * *

RK dies on the thirtieth of January, 2042 a week following hospitalization.

Gavin used to think that if RK ever died, as strong and immortal as he seemed in his mind, then RK would die with a fight, all valiant and powerful and terrorizing the shit out of his opponents.

Instead, Gavin simply watched the light at his temple spin once, then twice, then never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :/


	2. dawn goes down to day

Something in Gavin dies with RK.  
  
He doesn’t remember much of what happens after. He doesn’t remember Connor finding him, holding RK’s hand silently, sitting motionless by the bed. He doesn’t remember getting home and curling up under the covers, the bed now empty of one more person. He doesn’t remember Tina, showing up an indeterminate amount of time later, making use of his kitchen and taking Delilah out for her walk and filling his refrigerator with Tupperwares of carefully portioned meatloaf.  
  
He does remember the funeral.  
  
He wishes he didn’t.  
  
It’s an unreal event. He is looking out at the world through glasses of a bad prescription, watching people step in and out of the fog. Nodding blankly along to all the “I’m-so-sorry-for-your-loss”s and “RK-was-a-good-man”s and waiting for a quiet moment, a moment alone.  
  
The glasses fall off when the service ends. People are moving away around him, slowly, dreamlike, and he is standing in front of a gravestone and overturned dirt. And the hammer of realization finally falls.  
  
The iron band that had been constricting his breathing the entire time suddenly tightens. He turns, desperately seeking someone, anyone who hasn’t yet left.  
  
“Gavin?”  
  
Someone’s there, and when he spins to seek out a face to the voice, he sees Tina. “Tina, I-”  
  
“Gavin, hey-” She’s all worry and smeared mascara, and she moves to touch his arm with a hand gloved in black. “  
  
“I can’t be here, I can’t-”  
  
“Gav-hey, calm down-”  
  
“Don’t-!” He manages a shuddering breath that seems to do nothing. The air smells sickly, like flowers. “Don’t tell me what to-what do I do now? What do I do now?!”  
  
The last question ends in a strangled half gasp. The world is spinning in circles around him. Someone’s hand lands on his shoulder, and he’s only barely aware of Tina reaching out for him.  
  
He wakes up at home.

* * *

"Here's her leash, and bowl. If she starts whimpering at night, that mean's she's too cold."  
  
"That's what the vest is for, right? Got it."  
  
"Yeah. She also runs fast, and suddenly, so you're gonna wanna keep a tight grip on the leash-"  
  
"Chrissake, kid, I know how to hold a leash-"  
  
"Sorry, sorry. Just saying." Gavin scratches at the nape of his neck and manages a tired smile at Hank, as if this was a perfectly normal thing that was happening. Like it was totally okay that he was falling apart at the seams and couldn't muster the energy to take care of himself, much less Delilah or Marie. Tina had already agreed to taken Marie, and had left with her a few hours ago. "And-uh. Thanks again. For this."  
  
"No problem." Hank's standing at his doorway, Delilah lapping at his fingers. "She gets along great with Sumo, and who knows, it might convince that big lug to actually move around a bit."  
  
"I promise it's not for long."  
  
"Reed-Gavin, it's fine, alright?" Hank smiles and claps him on the shoulder. There's a look in his eye, sympathetic. "Just, uh. Don't do what I did, okay? Just promise me that."  
  
Right. Gavin swallows thickly, and nods. He was tired of crying. "Yeah. Thanks, Hank."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. See ya, kid."  
  
"Bye."  
  
He closes the door, takes a deep breath. The apartment had seemed to be less welcoming after RK left, but it had never been silent.  
  
_I'm alone,_ Gavin thinks, and he bites the inside of his cheek in an effort to quell the stinging emptiness that rises in his chest.

* * *

Some days he tries, he really does try, to get better.  
  
He forces himself up at a time that's not past eleven. He runs laps around the block until his lungs are aching and he feels like he's about to pass out. He goes to the support groups, the therapists, and tries to engage and talk, even though the words feels like bitter knives in his throat. He makes himself eat a normal meal. He tells himself that it's worth it. It's what RK would've wanted.  
  
And other days he curls up tighter in bed and tries to pretend that he's decaying silently away without anyone caring.

* * *

He misses Delilah and Marie.  
  
They're part of what's left of his world now, he thinks. Them and Tina, who refuses to leave him alone and lights his phone with texts and calls frequently. With banal, pointless shit, memes and pictures of Marie and such.  
  
His world has condensed to a girl, a dog, and a cat, and yet he keeps a mile-wide berth away from all of them.

* * *

Is it pathetic to dig through a wastebasket looking for that one post-it note that had been written weeks ago, that had been thrown out because it was thought that there'd be dozens more post-it notes following, that there'd be hundreds more opportunities to save these scraps of paper?  
  
Gavin doesn't know. But when he finds it, he traces the handwriting with a finger, the Cyberlife Sans written with a slight slant and looping curls on the 'g's and 'a's and the cheesy heart dotting the 'i' of 'I love you', and can't believe he had been so stupid to throw it out in the first place.

* * *

Fowler joins the unanswered messages on his phone, with apologies (he was going to punch the next person who tried to apologize, like that was going to do anything) and reminds him that he'll have to return to work soon. If he needs more time, to let the department know.  
  
He puts the phone back on his nightstand and turns over again.

* * *

He can't do this forever.

* * *

He goes back into work.  
  
He walks in and ignores the sudden hushes, the stares, the whispers. It's been more than a month since anyone's seen him in the department, and years since he last walked in alone.  
  
He can pretend that everything's is just like it was three years ago and he can revert back to being That Asshole if it could help him ignore the aching emptiness in his chest.  
  
(But then he sees the flowers on RK's desk and card on his, and he can't do this. He turns right back around and walks to his car.)

* * *

_"Sorry. I should've-I cleaned off the desks."_  
  
"It's fine, Tina."  
  
_"Are you going to come back in tomorrow?"_  
  
"I don't know."  
  
_"...Okay. Eat something, alright?"_  
  
"I know."  
  
_"Okay. See you. Marie says 'hi'."_  
  
"...Thanks. Bye."

* * *

"Hey, Hank? Do you think I can drop by and pick Delilah up?"  
  
_"Christ, Gav. It's fucking...it's four in the morning."_  
  
"I know, I know. Sorry, I just..."  
  
_"No, it's fine."_ A pause. _" Now?"_  
  
"If that's okay."  
  
_"Sure. I'll pack her stuff up."_  
  
"Thanks again."

* * *

In the additional week off that he gets, he tries to make something normal again.  
  
His phone buzzes noisily on the nightstand at 6:00 am and he forces himself out of bed. Then it's changing out of pajamas, stumbling into the kitchen, feeding the dog and the cat, taking his meds with cold water from the tap.  
  
He walks Delilah through the morning streets of Detroit, where the only people that are out are those opening shops and a few determined joggers. He stops for a cheap black coffee at a diner on the way back and sips it from the paper cup. He's back home by seven for a shower. He's at the precinct by seven-fifty.  
  
The desk across from him is empty again. It's easy to slip into this space and pretend that nothing had ever happened, that's it's 2038 and the world is still ugly and bitter to Gavin and he's still just an asshole with a report that's not done.  
  
At eight on the dot, Connor walks in, and the illusion is broken for a heart-wrenching moment until Gavin looks away.

* * *

In a strange way, he's really proud of himself for how long he's managed to stay away from drinking. He's proud of how long he manages to stick to his promise to Hank.  
  
Promises don't mean much when they're broken, regardless of how long it took to break them.  
  
It's four months until Gavin finally caves and goes to a bar.  
  
That's where Anderson finds him, in a cruel twist of irony. He's sitting in the booth of some dingy little bar with his elbows sticking to the table and thoughts trapped elsewhere. Drinking whiskey and waiting for things to fall into the state where he stops remembering things for a while, staring blankly out the window.  
  
"You shouldn't be here, kid."  
  
"You shouldn't've been here either."  
  
He doesn't need to look to know Hank is staring at him with the most pitying look on his face, and Gavin wants to punch him. "Come on, Gav. Let's go."  
  
"Leave me alone, old man."  
  
His own comment catches him off guard, and he grimaces like the phrase is more bitter than the alcohol. Hank sighs and slides into the opposite seat.  
  
"This isn't going to help you." He says quietly. "It's just gonna fuck you up in the long run."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
"RK-"  
  
"If you say any shit like 'RK wouldn't want this for you' I'm gonna rip your fucking head off." He snaps. He's heard it enough. He's heard it phrased in a hundred different fucking ways from a dozen fucking people. Tina's said it, indirectly, inadvertently, accidentally. That one lady at the support group had said it, like it was some revelation that was supposed to change his fucking life and make him forget the emptiness in his fucking chest. Fowler's said it in as polite and workplace-friendly a tone as possible, shifting the meaning between "sorry for your loss but stop being sad" to "get to work, please".  
  
Hank doesn't argue. He doesn't leave either. "Okay."  
  
"Go away."  
  
"You know I'm not going to do that."  
  
They sit in silence for a while, Gavin staring out the window at the dark straight, twirling the near-empty glass in one hand. "It should've been me."  
  
He's the weaker one. He's the older one. He's the human one and the former smoker with a caffeine problem and old wounds that sometimes ache. It doesn't make sense that he's the one who's outlasted the other.  
  
"Don't say that."  
  
"You think it too, don't you?"  
  
Hank doesn't answer. Gavin drains the rest of his drink, signals for another. "Do you still miss him?" He asks, and he's proud of how the question barely slurs.  
  
"Every damn day."  
  
"Does it ever get easier?"  
  
"No. I don't think it ever does."  
  
"I'm so fucking sick of being sad."  
  
"I am too."

* * *

_I'm so fucking sick of being sad,_ he thinks again in the morning, as Marie is stepping around on his torso and he's squinting eyes through the blinding sun and the headache.  
  
The day proceeds as normal. He walks into the precinct late. He does his reports goes to a scene and takes some notes and drinks his bitter coffee and then goes home. He feeds his pets and walks his dog and tries to make a dinner that's not instant or microwaved, fails, and half-debates if it's worth ordering out at this hour.  
  
He's still toying with the idea when there's a knock at his door. He wonders if he can ignore it, because the only person who visits him anymore is Tina and Tina has her own key.  
  
Apparently he can't, because the knocking doesn't stop, still beating out in that same, monotonous pattern and now Delilah has taken notice and is barking at the door and the combined noise it enough for Gavin to grit his teeth and wrench the knob open, ready to curse whoever it is out-  
  
_-brown hair, curling down-_  
  
His heart freezes. So does Connor.  
  
"...What do you want." He snaps, trying to hide the brief waver in his demeanor, the horrible, stupid hope that had taken over for an instant. Not that it matters, Connor probably saw anyways.  
  
Connor has the good sense to look abashed, fidgeting in his jacket. The flash of a coin passes between his fingers. "Detect-Gavin, Do you. Do you have a moment?"  
  
"I'm not working right now. So this can wait until-"  
  
"It's not about work. I have-something for you." He pauses. "From RK." From his pocket he pulls a small, cylindrical device. An audio recorder. "I wasn't sure when I should-if it was the right time-"  
  
"...When?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"When did he-when did you-" Gavin takes a deep breath and steps away from the entrance. When did he have the time. "I was with him the whole fucking _time_ , when did-how could have have found time to-to-even-I didn't leave him _alone_ -"  
  
"Gavin," Connor says, and it's not the same as RK's voice. It's never been the same, Connor's pitch is always higher and softer around the edges, but in that instant it's similar enough for a sob to tear from Gavin's throat, half-choked and painful. A hand touches his shoulder. "Hey, hey-"  
  
"Don't fucking touch me." He snarls, and the hand retracts immediately.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"If he wanted me to have it, he would've fucking given it to me himself."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Okay?"  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Am I-yes, I'm fucking sure."  
  
"Gavin, can I do anything-"  
  
"You want to do something for me? You wanna tell me how to fucking grieve?" He shoves Connor, and the android stumbles backwards. He's not strong enough to do that, and knowing that Connor is letting him just makes him angrier. "Do me a favor and get _the fuck out of my sight_."  
  
"...Okay."

* * *

**5.21**  
  
**3:29**  
i changed my mind. i want it.  
  
**3:49**  
i'm sorry.

* * *

Connor doesn't stick around, and Gavin is both relieved and regretful.  
  
The little audio recorder sits on his kitchen table like a threat. Gavin sits before it with his hands wrapped around a cooling cup of coffee. The apartment is silent and dark.  
  
He reaches forward and hits play.  
  
" _Gavin-_ "  
  
He hits pause immediately. Even slightly distorted through the crackling quality of the recorder, the sound of RK's voice again enough to make him shake. He thinks he might cry again, if he hadn't already cried enough for a lifetime a few hours ago.  
  
He steels himself and hits play once more.  
  
" _Gavin, hello. If you're, uh, hearing this, then._ " RK sighs, and Gavin's heart feels like it might shatter. " _I don't really need to say it, do I?_ "  
  
" _But...Connor, never mind. I don't even know-turn it off._ "  
  
A brief moment of silence. Gavin takes a shaky breath.  
  
" _Okay, okay, second take. Uh, hey, Gavin, this is-you know who this is, what am I doing. Connor-_ "  
  
" _Gavin, hello, I just want to say that-hell, damn it. Why is this so difficult?_ "  
  
" _Hey-ugh. No, turn it off._ "  
  
Connor's voice crackles to life, distant and muted. " _What are you trying to say?_ "  
  
" _What else can I say? How can I say, 'Gavin, I love you' in this context without hurting him_?" RK laughs bitterly. " _I-this was a stupid, selfish endeavor. Turn it off, Connor._ "  
  
" _Let's try one more time, okay?_ "  
  
" _Who are you to tell me how to say goodbye? Turn it_ off, _Connor-_ "  
  
The recording falls quiet once more, and Gavin's only dimly aware of the hot tears that slice down his cheeks.  
  
" _Okay, last try, alright? Last try. Gavin, if you're hearing this...I love you. Dearly. I know you told me not to say 'sorry', but...I'm sorry. I truly am. I wish-I wanted-I wanted so much to stay, I. There was still so much I wanted to do with you._ "  
  
" _But, love-don't let your grief define you. You deserve to be happy, whether or not I'm there. Take care of yourself and Things 1 and 2-ah, now even I'm calling them that._ " He chuckles. " _It's-goodness. I wanted so much with you. It was such a strange series of events that got us where we were, but I'm happy it happened. I'm happy things went they way they did, up until-well. You know._ "  
  
" _The most golden times might be passed, but they're not forgotten. My only regret is not enjoying them more with you._ "  
  
" _Take care, love._ "  
  
The recording ends. Gavin blinks-through his tears, he can see the room beginning to grow light. The sun must be rising, and the walls are a soft, unreal blue that fades into pale yellow.  
  
He presses play again and presses his hands tighter against the cold ceramic mug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when hozier said, "imagine being loved by me" ...i felt that

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidangst :)


End file.
